>Day Be Aggressive. B.E. Aggressive. In Equestria.
>Holy shit.
>Fucking Fluttershy is running a self-assertiveness seminar.
>With some big ass Minotaur.
>In Appaloosa.
>"Fluttershy was a wimp, but with the help of Iron Will, she is a pimp."
>The Minotaur flexes his muscles.
>Fluttershy looks out into the crowd.
>It's not a big crowd, but she's doing that thing she does.
>That stare.
>Everyone, not just you, is clearly intimidated.
>Its weird, it triggers something in the back of your head.
>Those very primal flight or fight reflexes get snapped on.
>But after everything that's happened.
>You feel more like flight.
>You shrink down a little in the back of the crowd.
>"O-oh..."
>She taps the little microphone on her headset and clears her voice.
>It's...powerful.
>"Iron Will's methods worked for me and they'll work for you!"
>She flutters off stage and right up to some yellow pony in a cowboy hat.
>"DO YOU DOUBT ME?!"
>Full on terrifying.
>"N-no 'mam."
>She flutters back on stage.
>"That, everypony, is your first lesson. “Don't be shy, look 'em in the eye!"
>Iron Will is nodding with a grin from the side of the stage.
>Fluttershy notices him and nods.
>And then gets this almost sadistic grin on her face.
>"The goats are going through the crowd looking for the silliest, wimpiest, shyest looking pony here!"
>"And that pony is gonna come up on stage and volunteer, even if they're not okay with that..."
>You hear a bleating from behind you.
>Fucking Goats.
 
>You've been cornered by goats.
>This has happened before. In the real world.
>Damn you third grade petting zoo field trip!
>You bent over to tie your shoes and you became dogpiled by goats!
>They begin knocking you around.
>Shoving you forward.
>You end up onstage.
>Crafty goat fuckers coralled you.
>You've got a black eye.
>Rope cuts on your wrists.
>And a nasty bruise around your throat.
>Fluttershy is still working the crowd.
>Ironwill slams you on the shoulder.
>"All right brother, you look like you need some serious self-assertiveness training!"
>A spotlight falls on you.
>Pyrotechnics blaze up.
>He kicks you in the ass and you go sliding into center stage.
>Fluttershy looks down at you.
>She looks like she's still drunk on the attention.
>"A-anon?"
>What would be a mumbled recognition is blasted over the speakers.
>Followed by feedback.
>You look up at her and wave a little.
>"Anon, is that you. What are you even doing here?"
>Oh that's not her usual voice.
>That's self-assertive still.
"I just...need some help. Maybe."
>She rips you off the ground by your shirt collar.
>She shouts in your face.
>“Maybes are for babies!”
 
>You wince.
>This is emasculating. On such a heavy level.
>Maybe if you didn't get raped in a basement a little over a day ago you'd process it better.
>She's breathing heavily.
>She's angry at you.
>You could cry right now.
>That's what you were taught growing up.
>Either laugh or cry.
>And quit being a wussy.
>"Maybes are for babies! Are you here to get help or get hurt?!"
>You let out a little snicker.
>"You laugh at me? I WRATH at YOU!"
>She slams her forehead into your face.
>Crack.
>Nose is bleeding.
>She drops you on your ass.
>"Now ladies and gentlecolts, how could this have been avoided?"
>She's not even looking at you.
>Some voices pipe up from the crowd.
>"He coulda been direct!" "He should've said what he wanted!" "He should'a ducked!"
>Fluttershy spits.
>It hits you in the eye.
>Today is a new low.
 
"I'm...sorry. It's just...this isn't going to help me."
>This isn't how you thought this little self-help seminar would go.
"I'm wasting your time."
>“You apologize, I penalize!"
>She rips you off the stage by your hair and sneers right in your face.
>It's that stare.
>And the pain.
>And it's just been too much.
>Your eyes start to well up.
>For a flicker you can see classic Fluttershy in there.
>She drops you.
>"This could've been avoided if he had been direct from the start!"
>"He probably thought he was some big shot guy who could push people around and get what he wanted because he's handsome.."
>"But look at him!"
>She glares down at you and you shrink towards the stage floor.
>Just trying to keep yourself stable.
>Iron Will slides out and back into the limelight.
>He kicks you off stage right.
>Grabs Fluttershy's forehoof and raises it high.
>Like she's the heavyweight champion of the world.
>"Follow Iron Will, my friends! He'll help you be so assertive that you'll be able to get your way no matter what!"
>You've scraped your hands now.
>You can't laugh this one off.
>This was too much.
>You get to your feet and just stumble off to the side of the stage.
>There's nobody around to see you.
>You let it all out.
 
>You miss so many things.
>You miss the prospect of a better life.
>You miss the chance at a career.
>You miss your old life.
>You miss the simple things.
>You miss just being a guy who didn't mind getting roughed up in sex.
>You hate that people seem to be defining you by that now.
>And you hate getting hurt so much lately.
>You miss having the will to love.
>And you cry.
>It's silent and heavy.
>You're so not used to crying.
>You can hear the loud rock music playing.
>More pyrotechnics being shot off.
>Self-assertiveness being pumped out of loud speakers.
>You take a few deep breaths.
"This...is not..my life."
>You look at your scraped up hands.
>Clench and un-clench them.
>You punch yourself in the face.
>That was a bitch punch.
>You do it again. Harder.
>Again.
>Harder.
>Get this shit out of your system.
>You brutalize yourself.
>And you are not aroused.
>You topple over your side and just lay in the desert dirt.
>Looking up at the sun.
>You want to let out a primal scream of defiance and hate.
>But.
>Well, why the fuck not.
"FUCK. EVERYTHING. I AM NOT. A FUCKING. LOSER."
 
>You don't know how long you just lay there.
>You aren't hearing the fanfare of winners.
>There's some blood spilling over your eye.
>You must have cut your brow.
>You're a fucking loser, you know that?
>That blood feels weird now.
>Now it's all sticky and cracked.
>Dry.
>You just look out at the town of Appaloosa.
>It's like a Wild West Re-Enactment town.
>Situated in the middle of some goddamn not-Arizona Badlands.
>You never went to the Badlands.
>Wait, aren't those in New Mexico?
>You'll never go there either.
>Though you tread now in a world no man has ever seen or stepped.
>You miss places seen and walked a thousand times by your kin.
>This must be how the astronauts felt up in space.
>Surrounded by the void.
>All that man every accomplished
>On a tiny
>Blue
>Marble.
>"A-anon?...are you c-crying?"
>Fucking Fluttershy.
>Ruining your elegantly crafted poetic existentialist nightmare.
"I was."
>She whimpers.
>"I t-thought m-maybe if I was m-more like Rainbow and assertive y-you'd l-l-like me...more...mblmb."
>She mumbles.
"I was climbing out of that pit, Fluttershy."
>You try to get up but your chest hurts.
>You had been wailing on your chest as well.
"I was really doing it..."
 
>"..it's not fair."
>That's the mumble you can make out.
>Life isn't fair. You can make it fair by hobbling others.
>Even the odds, so to speak.
>You're going to hobble someponies when you get back to Ponyville.
>As soon as you stop kidding yourself.
>Stop kidding yourself.
>You just can't.
>How'd you end up broken like this?
"I miss my old life so much."
>She lays down next to you in the dirt.
>Her eyes are filled with regret and sadness for what happened on stage.
"I had aspirations. Friends. Career in the making. I was interesting."
>She gives a small smile.
>She doesn't say anything.
>She's smart like that.
>She knows when you need to talk and when you need to listen.
"Twilight thinks I'm evil...so does Applejack."
>Your voice sputters somehow.
>A breach in your usually solid charisma.
"Twilight r-r-r--"
>Now you just sound pathetic.
>It's just a word.
"Twilight took advantage of me."
>Or a phrase if you don't want to use that word.
>Fluttershy is shocked and she looks like she wants to cry.
"Applejack thinks I change you guys...make you worse."
>You begin to rebuild yourself in your head.
"I think it's the opposite. I think you guys bring out the worst in me."
>Fluttershy does start to cry.
"I want to hurt her. So bad. Because she did something. Because she could."
"I want to be able to hurt her."
>You slam the side of your head against the dusty ground.
"I just can't."
 
>"S-stop it."
>Fluttershy gets off the ground and wipes the tears from her eyes.
>"S-stop a-acting like it's t-true."
>You start to get up. But it's painful.
>"You're not..." She clears her voice. "You're not weak."
>"And you're not evil."
>"...And I t-think I bring out the b-best in you m-m-mister."
>You get up a little more and you can feel bones popping.
>You must've really done a number over on yourself.
>Rage and hitting rock bottom. Helluva'n'anathestic.
>You topple over.
>She's under you.
>You lean on her.
"You used to really creep me out, Fluttershy."
>You're able to get up on your feet now.
>She doesn't look at you.
>You pat her head and scratch her behind the ears.
"But that wasn't love."
>She helps you move.
>You don't even know where you're going.
>You're actually sort of dizzy.
>It's hot out.
>You've been bashing up your face and body.
>Some blood loss.
>..you should find a mirror.
"You might've thought it was love, but you can't make someone love you."
>You notice some blood on Fluttershy's back.
>Some flecks of red in her mane.
>Your knuckles are busted up.
>"I'm sorry, Anon."
>You just give her a little smile.
>She recoils at first but smiles back.
>There's so much concern on her face.
 
>She got a trailer for her little part in this self-assertiveness training deal.
>It's nice. Kinda blurry.
>That's probably just the mild concussion talking.
>You lay down on her bed and look up at the metal ceiling.
>She's buzzing around you, multi-tasking.
>Making some soup.
>Burning your wounds with alcohol.
>Bandaging your wounds.
>She pricks one of your eyebrows and you can feel a liquid starting to pool.
>You finally get that part in the Rocky movies where he asks Mick to cut him.
>So much gauze.
>Bondage isn't really your deal.
>But the pressure feels nice.
>That may be because it's stopping you from dying.
>Though you'd normally doubt you have enough stupidity to beat yourself to death.
>Today is a day for an exception to be considered.
>Your brain must've been baking in the sun.
>You hear something bleat.
"No fucking goats in here!"
>Wow, you sound drunk Anon.
"I fucking hate goats!"
>Stop talking buddy.
>Stay conscious.
>If you fall asleep you might die.
>Scalding hot soup is forced down your throat.
>Fucking Fluttershy.
>She notices.
>She blows on the next spoonful.
>"Just let momma help you, mister."
>You try to lift a hand and rub your eyes.
>It takes longer than expected to get up there.
>It's quite bandaged.
>The arm is quite bruised.
 
"Fluttershy?"
>She puts another spoonful down your throat.
>You can barely even taste it.
"Fluttershy, I'm still in my little hole."
>She gives you a look.
>Like, 'shut up anon, this is different'.
>"Sshh... t-this is different, Anon...if that's all right with you."
>You finish another meal.
>In silence.
>Thoughts of self-loathing are you there?
>You've been replaced with renewed vigor for life?
>How'd that happen?
>Self-injury combined with...oh.
>All-consuming urge for vengeance and justice.
>Not healthy, but understandable.
>The soup was good.
"Fluttershy?..can I have a mirror?"
>"Uhm...you...might...mbmlbm."
>She mumbles but goes off and retrieves one anyway.
>She doesn't let you use it right away.
"It's that bad?"
>"...wasn't that good before."
>You laugh.
>Oh god that hurts.
>You shouldn't work the ribs next time, dumbass.
>"Oh-no! I meant...when you were on stage...you're usually handsome, mister."
"Can I just see myself, please?"
>She winces nervously and turns the mirror on you.
>You look like goddamn Joshua Graham.
>Sans the burnt flesh.
"Went a little heavy on the bandages?"
>She shakes her head.
"Wow. That bad?"
>She nods.
"Wow. Fuck me."
>"O-oh...do y-you want me to be rough?"
 
>It's a tense moment.
>She's looking right in your eyes.
>She seems really torn about this.
>And well... You were FUCKING JOKING.
>Not even fucking joking.
>More like cursing yourself out.
>But well... this is what she's seemed to always want.
>You are helpless.
>Utterly at her mercy.
>You just got raped not even two days ago.
>This isn't happening.
"...Actually, Fluttershy. I know you've totally earned it."
>Wow, that's like a twenty bucks in the douchebag jar statement.
"But, maybe we should wait until I heal up?"
>She smiles. Must've been worried.
>Snuff is most certainly not either of your fetishes.
>She sits down on the ground next to you.
>You turn your head and just look in those big, sad, beautiful, concerned eyes.
>She kisses you.
>On the lips.
>She slides her tongue in as well, just to explore.
>You move one of your arms, and it takes a moment, behind her head.
>You release one another and she blushes.
>"Is..this because y-you got hurt and it's your f-fetish?"
"No."
>"Oh."
>She seems downtrodden.
"This is actually better than my fetish."
>She seems overjoyed.
>And you spend the rest of that night.
>Mackin' Fluttershy.